


Endure the Cost

by bearandcrow



Category: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, MDZS, Mo Dao Zu Shi
Genre: Blood, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearandcrow/pseuds/bearandcrow
Summary: A Canon Divergent Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen AUInspired by seven_biscuitss' fanartEditor credit & thanks to K.V. MoffetDaozhang Song Lan has sought his blind cultivation partner, Daozhang Xiao Xingchen, for three years. This time, a single word changes the outcome.
Relationships: Sòng Lán | Sòng Zǐchēn/Xiǎo Xīngchén
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28
Collections: Songxiao Reverse Itty Bitty Bang 2020





	Endure the Cost

_Daozhang Song Lan has sought his blind cultivation partner, Daozhang Xiao Xingchen, for three years, finally finding him in Yi City with the help of a young lady named A-Qing, who appears blind, and is Xiao Xingchen's ward. Xiao Xingchen also lives with another man, whose identity is unknown to Xingchen. To his horror, Song Lan learns that the man is their enemy, Xue Yang._

_Song Lan waits to catch Xue Yang alone, and a fight ensues._

_This time, a single word changes the outcome._

Song Lan fought with swords and cultivation power, but his enemy used more.

"Wasn't it you who told him, 'From now on, we won't need to meet again?'" Xue Yang said, each word re-opening wounded emotions.

He hadn't expected his vilest words to be pulled from the past, to slice now, more sharply than a blade.

He faltered.

Xue Yang kept speaking, a double-pronged attack, each blow struck with words wrapping his blade.

Swords and words.

He had not learned how to defend against his deepest shame cutting to the core of his being. With each set of words, each strike of the blade, each thrust or parry, his opponent gained the upper hand.

"Daozhang Xiao Xingchen, don't you agree?" Xue Yang asked, lookingpast him.

_Xiao Xingchen?_ He shouldn't be here, he--

He started to turn. His training took over. His shifu had drilled him on this ruse, again and again, and he turned back.

Xue Yang snarled, his sneak attack already in motion. Spoiled. The throw of powder flew wide.

He dodged, still caught the cloudy edge, coughed, and staggered. _Poison--_

A flash of metal, the blade caught the edge of his mouth, cut across his cheek. He screamed. Blood spurted. Filled his mouth. He choked, spit blood. Swung awkwardly at Xue Yang.

Metal clanged, blades met, and Xue Yang's words continued to slice. Blood filled his mouth again, flowed from multiple cuts.

"Daozhang!" a child screamed.

A cut from behind sliced searing cold pain--

He looked down, startled, tried to make sense of a brilliant, silver blade tip poking out of his chest.

And then it was gone, pulled away. _Burning freezing--_

Blood pumped from his chest, drained strength.

He staggered.

_Who?_

But he knew.

"You die," Xue Yang snarled.

He turned. Fell to his knees, fingers frozen on the hilt of his sword.

_Xiao Xingchen._ Standing tall and righteous, bandaged gaze turned from him, looking beyond...

He choked on blood. Couldn't speak.

The child screamed again.

Xiao Xingchen moved away. Had no time for him.

_As it should be._

Voices faded with the light.

He opened his eyes in a world colored black.

_This darkness... is death?_

A faint sound of movement.

_I can hear._

_Am I blind in death? Did Xingchen retrieve his eyes?_

And nearly before that thought could be completed: _Xingchen would not._

He moved, a shift of an arm, without strength.

Sharp pain pierced his chest, pulsed his cheek. He hissed, the sound muffled. Blood seeped into his mouth.

_Alive!_

But... _how?_

He blinked, groaned, braced a hand, to lever upwards.

Warm strong fingers gripped his shoulder, pressed him down.

"I suggest you remain where you are. Spit," a man said, voice calm, authoritative, expecting compliance. A cloth was pressed against the undamaged side of his face. He spat out blood, felt it wiped away as gently as could be done.

The voice... heart-shatteringly familiar, despite the years that had passed.

_Xiao Xingchen._

But... _how?_ Where was Xue Yang?

"Better?" Xiao Xingchen asked.

He opened his mouth to answer, managed, "Uh."

"I gave you medicine to help stop the bleeding. And more, to ward off infection. You were.... heavily wounded."

_I should be dead._

Shadows began to take shape in the dark. Not blind. _Night._ In a dark room.

"The candle went out," another voice said. The young girl he'd met earlier. Xingchen's... disciple? Ward?

"Ah..." Xingchen said on a soft breath. "I... had forgotten..."

"That I can see?" The girl's voice stalled on a sob.

_Crying?_

"I... hm..." Xingchen let the thought drift off. "Can you find another candle, A-Qing?"

"I saw one," she said, sounding sullen. "I'll get it."

"Thank you, A-Qing." When the girl stepped out of the room, Xingchen asked, "Who are you?"

"I--" his voice came out a harsh croak.

"Some water," Xingchen said. Quiet movements were followed by warm hands guiding a small bowl of water into his grasp. "There's enough for a swallow or two, for now," Xingchen said.

He wanted to reach out, grab those hands, beg forgiveness. Instead, he noisily sipped the water, the wound on his face swollen, distorting his mouth.

"Thank you," he said, voice jagged, words muffled.

Slowly, the shapes in the room became distinct. He was uncertain where to put the bowl. His thinking felt slow.

Xingchen's white robes appeared to draw any particle of light into them, making Xingchen a pale white glow. Ghostly. Wearing a wide white bandage where his eyes had once been, like a blindfold.

He swallowed, and the movement struck a lump in his throat.

Xiao Xingchen was blind because he was not. He could see with Xiao Xingchen's eyes.

Xingchen touched his hands. "Are you finished?" Xingchen asked, fingers wrapping around the bowl, around his own.

"Xiao Xingchen," he said, and felt Xingchen's hands still. "I... I am Song Lan." And before his voice could break, added, "I am sorry, you were never at fault."

He had no right to touch Xingchen, no right to even beg forgiveness. But in this, he had lost pride, lost integrity. He had learned the price of his temper, his vicious words.

He had hurt Xingchen. He had lost Xingchen.

That cost was too high.

Xingchen's hands trembled. "Song Lan," he said, and took the bowl away. Stood.

"Yes, I..." _have been looking for you? to apologize?_ He faltered, uncertain what else to say.

Xingchen walked away, stopped near a shelf, set the bowl on it.

He'd been rejected.

He couldn't blame Xingchen. Would never blame Xingchen a second time.

The girl, A-Qing, returned, carrying a lit candle, hand cupped to protect it from drafts. "Daozhang, I found a candle," she said, walking toward him, lighting the small room.

Half-filled shelves lined the walls. Storage? The small window was shuttered. And a single doorway led to another room, but he could discern nothing of the dark space beyond.

"I'm putting the candle by his bed," the girl said, and set the candle on a nearby shelf. She looked down at him, seemed annoyed. "Don't knock it over. We don't have anyplace else to stay if you burn--"

"A-Qing," Xingchen said, without a hint of censure in his tone, "Daozhang Song is our guest."

She scowled at him, then told Xingchen, "I'm not saying anything that isn't true."

"Thank you, A-Qing, for the candle so our guest can see..." Something seemed to catch Xingchen's attention, a hand raised toward his blindfold, and then slowly lowered. "So... so you both can see. A-Qing, will you please manage the light, for the two of you?"

"Yes, Daozhang," she said. The smile on her face warred with a scowl and she stalked across the small room and sat down on the floor with a thump, legs crossed, elbows to knees and her chin on her fists.

_Imp._ At that strange age between child and adult, dancing uncertainly from pouty to assertive and back.

He levered onto an elbow.

"You should not be moving," Xingchen said.

He looked up, Xingchen stood beyond the candle's light, head slightly bowed, difficult to see.

He pressed a hand against the bed, pushed himself upright.

"I... nearly killed you," Xingchen said.

_Your wounds are extensive._

"I... thought you were a walking corpse. Even... Shuanghua..."

_The poison._

"You'd have been one for sure, if you hadn't dodged most of that powder," A-Qing abruptly added.

He looked at her.

Xingchen turned toward her, "You have familiarity with the powder?"

"Yes. Well. I mean. Just... I heard what that filthy thing told you, before you almost killed him!"

He quickly understood who she spoke of, and her enthusiasm for Xue Yang's death seemed to nearly match his own.

He sat still, let a wave of pain settle, before he tried to stand.

"You are not well,” Xingchen said. “You should stay in bed."

He could not rightfully remain here. He could not ask for more from the man he'd betrayed. He shook his head, mumbled, "I can't... stay."

"You are the one who came here," Xingchen said, tone cool. Then nearly breaking on the next word, "Why?"

"I've... been looking for you." _For years._

"Stop it, stop hurting him!" the girl yelled, leaped up, and ran at him, fingers curling into fists.

He stared, taken off-guard. _I've apologized._

She hit him. Pounded punches and kicks with a speed he hadn't expected, strength greater than her slim size suggested.

_I-- What have I done?_ He lowered his gaze and did not stop her. Steeled himself against those stinging blows that still shocked pain through him when they landed near his wounds.

"A-Qing, stop," Xingchen said, tone sharper than the Xingchen of his past.

She was crying. "He lied!" A punch to the unwounded side of his face, a kick to a shin.

_Far less than I deserve._

The blows stopped landing, but he heard them hitting flesh. He looked to see Xingchen placing his arms and hands in her path, taking the hits meant for him.

She stopped. Protested. "He said he was your friend and he lied. He lied!" Tears glimmered on her cheeks, falling from pale eyes with white pupils.

"Daozhang Song has done no wrong here," Xingchen said.

She shot him a fierce glare, but spoke to Xingchen. "He hurt you, so that proves he lied to me.” She sniffled, and rubbed her nose. “Just like that awful thing."

Xingchen pressed a hand to her back, guided her away, murmured, "Shh, don't cry. I'm fine."

"You're NOT fine and I'm NOT crying!" A-Qing twisted away from Xingchen's hand, and stomped back to him. "You lied!" she hissed. "You're no friend!" She raised an arm and pointed at Xingchen. "Look what you've done to him!"

Dumbfounded, he looked at her, his gaze followed up her arm, her pointing finger, to Xingchen's face.

Blood.

Blood, from where his eyes had once been, stained Xingchen's bandage.

_Not healed? After so many years? How had Xingchen not yet healed?_

Xingchen, self-conscious, lifted a hand that seemed to faintly tremble in the soft light. Xingchen didn't touch his bandages. He lowered his hand.

Song Lan understood. There was nothing Xingchen could do to stop the blood, not with a touch. And touch might also be painful.

"Did he--?" _What? Torment you? Abuse you? Keep you captive?_ Any or all of those things, and more. Xue Yang, who had tricked blind Xingchen into unknowingly living with his enemy.

"Where is Xue Yang?" he asked, suddenly remembering their danger. He'd been fighting Xue Yang. How was he here, now, with Xingchen? He looked, saw his weapons near, his sword Fuxue, and his horsetail whisk.

"I don't know," Xingchen said. "He used a teleportation spell, but he was also seriously injured. The combination will have taken a heavy toll on him. I do not believe he can return earlier than six days, but I have..." Xingchen faltered, and the blood spread farther on his blindfold, "...been wrong before. We will need to be cautious."

"...Cautious..." he said, agreeing, worried, wondered why the candle light had grown so faint, so soon...

"I shall be vigilant, Zichen," Xingchen said. "The medication in the water will have made you sleepy. You need time to heal."

"...heal..." he agreed, but wasn't sure if he'd actually said it or not.

The candle went out and he thought he felt Xingchen's arm around him. He couldn't seem to focus....

"Is he going to live?" The speaker didn't sound hopeful.

"He may," another voice said. Familiar.

_Xingchen?_

Dreaming. He'd dreamt he'd found Xingchen. Sorrow surrounded the meeting. He'd looked so long for Xingchen... "Sorry. My fault. Sorry... I'm sorry...."

"Shh, you must sleep. I..."

"He's waking up again," a child's voice.

Warmth against his cheek, there and gone.

"Hm..." a soft voice acknowledged. "His fever is gone."

"He's gonna live, huh?"

He opened his eyes, and blinked to clear the haze.

Warm fingers pressed against his wrist, felt the pulse point, "If he follows instructions, yes."

His mind was as slow to focus as his eyes.

Daylight filtered through a small, open window. A breeze flowed through black hair--

"Are you awake?" Xingchen asked.

He stared at the gentle smile in a handsome, beautiful face partially hidden behind a wide, thick strip of cloth, with features slightly delicate for a man, yet too stern for a woman. He was thin, even for Xingchen, his black hair long and flowing over white robes.

He hadn't been dreaming.

And he _had_ dreamed.

He blinked.

Dream and reality had overlapped, but this... this, he was certain, was real. "I'm sorry, Xiao Xingchen," he said. His mouth felt odd, both numb and too sensitive, and he remembered the cut was still healing. His voice cracked, throat dry, but he said what he must say. "The fault is mine."

"Yes, so you've said." Xingchen sat on a small stool beside his bed, and clasped his hand. "Time and again since the fever took you. If this is what you need to hear, then I forgive you."

He stared. Had Xingchen just forgiven him? Offhanded? _Did he--_

"'Ah,' is an acceptable response," Xingchen said. A corner of his mouth curved upwards, "I can't hear your stare."

"You can guess it well enough," he muttered, while his mind struggled with--

_No. Something was... wasn't right._

"With that out of the way, Song Lan, can you hear me? If I tell you this thing I need to say to you, this time, will you hear me?"

He swallowed, throat dry. Closed his eyes. _This is it._ When Xingchen will tell him he is forgiven, but he is too late, the past is gone. He must take the full weight of what he had done, and pay the price forever. Xingchen would be done with him. He was not ready. Could never be.

"Song Lan, will you hear?"

But he could offer only one answer. He opened his eyes. "I will hear." He watched Xingchen, drank in what he could. This could be the last time he would see this face, hear this voice.

"Your words on the mountain were correct, Zichen. The fault is truly mine, and I will endure the cost, willingly."

He stared, tried to comprehend.

_Zichen._

_Xingchen's fault?_

"No," he said, could not form coherent thoughts. Could do no more than deny.

The cost?

_Blind..._

He scowled. Did not believe--

_Xingchen's fault?_

"Do you remember what I said to you, when I took you up the mountain?" Xingchen asked. Blood seeped into his bandage.

How could he forget? Even injured and dying, how could he forget?

"You took the blame," he whispered. "For my--" _For my family's deaths._

"So..." Xingchen bowed his head, "Through your fever then, you heard me."

But he had known, even then, that it was not--

Xingchen lifted his face, looked at him. "You understand, that you were not wrong? Had you and I never met, your family would be alive. Tell me, Zichen, how can I truly forgive you, when you have never been wrong?"

Xingchen stood, and stepped away.

"No." He pressed his hands against the bed. "Did you... wield the sword that cut my family down?"

He pushed himself upright, felt weak and shoved it aside, sat on the edge of the bed. "Did you spill their blood with your own two hands?"

He stood, tottered, braced a hand against the wall. "Did you order their deaths?"

He gathered his balance, walked toward Xingchen. "Was it your laughter I heard from the rooftop as my dying shifu warned me to beware?"

He laid a hand on Xingchen's back, felt him flinch.

"I saw the one responsible for my family's deaths, Xingchen. I fought him. He was not you."

"I..." Xingchen wiped his cheek. Red glinted on his fingers, before he curled them and hid the blood.

He stepped before Xingchen, touched fingertips beneath Xingchen's jaw, pressed upward, and asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Did you wish us harm of any sort?"

Xingchen allowed the touch, the upward tilt.

Blood soaked the white bandage. Too much blood for the cloth to hold, and blood trailed down Xingchen's face, stained his robes. He gently wiped away a bloody trail.

"You did none of these things, Xiao Xingchen."

"I was... instrumental," Xingchen said.

"The fault is not yours. I am sorry to have blamed you. Sorry to have let you believe this of yourself. Sorry to have brought this pain to you." Words flowed from him as they had never flowed before.

"I am sorry, Xiao Xingchen. You need not forgive me for this. But you must know that this pain that I have caused you, I will regret until this life ends."

Tears, clear and warm, fell, trailed down his cheeks.

"I..." Xingchen said again, stammered, "I..."

"Idiots!” A sharp young voice. “Fucking idiots!"

He startled, looked to the side.

A-Qing -- he hadn't noticed her before, had she come in? been there? -- let out a frustrated, wordless yell, and gathered more breath. "'It's my fault', 'no it's my fault', 'no really it's my fault!' What kind of idiot must I be to follow two guilty Daozhangs!" She stormed out on a squeal of frustration.

"A-Qing..." Xingchen said, sounding bewildered, looking at where she'd stood.

"She is... quite... enthusiastic," he said.

"Mm," Xingchen agreed.

But she had broken their stalemate, snapped him out of the travelled corridor of guilt. The feelings were there, would likely always be there.

"I blamed you in words only," he said. "Never, truly, in my heart. Please forgive me, I should never have put this burden on your shoulders," he said, and touched Xingchen's arm.

"You did not. I set it there myself," Xingchen covered his fingers with his own.

"SAY 'I FORGIVE YOU!' JUST FUCKING SAY IT!" A-Qing screamed from outside.

Startled silence followed, was quickly ended.

"Zichen, I forgive you," Xingchen said. "Of course, I forgive you."

"FINALLY!" from outside.

A soft smile lit Xingchen's face, was edged by blood, but was a smile, nonetheless.

Energy spent, he sank to his knees, captured Xingchen's hands in his own, and kissed his palms, tasted the sharp tang of blood and guilt.

_Zichen._ He hadn't heard that name since he'd lost his family and driven Xingchen away.

Xingchen knelt on one knee, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and firmly grasped his hands. "You need more rest," Xingchen whispered, and kissed him. Mouth to mouth, lips warm. The kiss soft. Chaste.

His wounded heart soared.

Four days later, he was well enough for them to walk away, to put Yi City behind them.

He and Xingchen walked hand-in-hand, as often as not. Speaking sometimes of the past, sometimes of the future, sometimes not at all.

A-Qing, now freed of her charade of blindness, began harassing them both for training. Xingchen was hesitant, knowing what a challenge she would present.

"She's too emotional, and far too bold."

"Yes," he agreed.

A-Qing was bold, and brave, and had a wicked tongue to match her temper, but he could not fault her choice of companion. He was as mystified by her as he was fond.

He felt like a coward, but he'd take that unsavory description in favor of letting Xingchen manage the half-wild child.

When Xingchen deflected her request once again, A-Qing tried bullying him.

"You should want to return a favor to me since I saved your life. Remember? Daozhang Dage said so!"

"Daozhang Dage?" Xingchen repeated, surprised.

"Yes!" A-Qing said, "Daozhang Dage and Daozhang Gege. What else would I call you?"

"Daozhang Xiao and Daozhang Song," he suggested, as was only proper.

He was met with a very unladylike snort.

Xingchen looked like he was biting his lip to keep from laughing.

"Please enlighten me," he said to A-Qing. "And explain your argument."

As they walked, A-Qing gave an enthusiastic re-enactment of events, with Xingchen adding clarifications when A-Qing's knowledge was understandably hazy.

The poison he'd inhaled had not been enough to change him, but had briefly given him the aura of a walking corpse.

Xingchen, drawn by the sounds of battle, had reacted to Shuanghua, his spirit blade's identification of a walking corpse, and Xingchen had struck. A-Qing's scream had been enough only for Xingchen to alter his strike. Xue Yang, furious, had threatened her. "You die," had not been meant for him, but for A-Qing. Xingchen had responded, protected the girl, and in the ensuing fight, had deeply wounded Xue Yang before Xue Yang used a teleportation spell and disappeared.

"Thank you, Miss A-Qing. I am most humbly grateful to you, for saving my life," he said, and took the coward's path. "In regards to your request, even were I not still recovering, I must defer to Daozhang Dage."

Xingchen sputtered.

* * *

Another week, and Xingchen asked him to accompany him, provide assistance with night-hunting, though Xingchen would not let him fully engage until Xingchen deemed him completely healed.

As they travelled, people seemed more wary of him, but were readily taken in by Xingchen's smile and kind nature.

But of the two of them, Xingchen was the daring one, with new ideas, the one who led, and he was the one who followed.

And it was Xingchen who, three nights later, cast a guarding spell while A-Qing slept, took his hand, kissed away his questions, and led him a distance into the bamboo forest and into the whispering night.

He thought they'd night-hunt.

"Here," Xingchen said, and stopped. Reached into his qiankun sleeve, pulled out a blanket and unfurled it onto the ground.

His slow brain sparked with the glimmer of hope. "We're... not night-hunting," he said, voice unexpectedly low and rough.

"We are not," Xingchen agreed, taking his hand, pulling him close.

"Xingch--" The name was lost in a kiss, breath trapped, claimed.

He groaned. Deepened the kiss, felt Xingchen's hands on his face, fingertips sliding along the new scar there, then down....

He pulled Xingchen against him, hands fitted perfectly over Xingchen's tight ass. Heat seared from the press of Xingchen's body against him. He turned the kiss to a bite, a nibble, and lowered them both to the blanket.

His belt was loosened under Xingchen's quick fingers. Clothes followed.

He slid a hand beneath Xingchen's robe, freed a shoulder, an arm,sucked in a breath at the sight of Xingchen's lean, muscular chest, pale in the moonlight, gaze drawn to an exposed, dark nipple. He dipped his head and sucked the tight nipple into his mouth, tongue teasing, teeth catching.

Xingchen drew in a sharp breath, let it out on a soft whoosh of warm air and bit his neck, sucked, sent shivers across his skin and sparks farther below.

Clothes and boots were flung aside. They were naked in the night.

Xingchen wrapped arms around his neck and shoulders, legs around his hips, pulled him into a tight hug. Sensitive fingers slid down his back, paused over the marks of Shuanghua's frost-glare, the scar, forever etched in his skin by Xingchen's sword. Fingers slid lower, traced another scar, older, and another. Touches he had believed he would never experience again.

"I traced your scars, while you were unconscious," Xingchen said, his voice soft and low.

"Shameless," he murmured and nuzzled Xingchen's neck. Nipped skin, kissed, tasted. Fingers exploring, reacquainting with curves and planes and the delicious ways Xingchen moved.

"I was... glad, to find the ones I knew."

"I am glad you did. Turned dreams to better paths," he murmured, speaking nonsense, but he knew this was important. Understood that Xingchen had pressed aside propriety and used what means he had to verify that this time, he had not been tricked.

He pressed a finger beneath Xingchen's chin, tilted his face toward him, kissed--

Xingchen turned his face from the kiss, broke it. Held him a breath away. "Wait--" Xingchen whispered. Lifted one hand and pulled away his bandages.

He froze. Knew Xingchen did not like to be without his bandages. And in the night, could see the greater darkness of the hollows where Xingchen's eyes had been.

"I--" Xingchen faltered.

He had nothing he could say. The eyes that should be looking at him, were instead looking into their original home. He grazed a gentle kiss above each eye cavity, to cause no pain.

"Ah..." Xingchen breathed, the frown mark at his eyebrows eased, and Xingchen pulled him into a tight embrace, bit his ear.

He slid his hand low. Lost all thoughts to the sensations, the moans, the feeling of Xingchen against him, then around him, the scents, the sounds they made together. Soaked in the handsome beauty of Xingchen, moving beneath him, the spill of moonlight and shadows across his body.

Until the scent of blood marred the moment.

He stilled. Panting, scared, he eased himself free.

"Wha-- what's wrong?" Xingchen gasped, catching his breath.

"Blood," he said, the word coming slow. "I'm... I've hurt you?" They had never been gentle, nor so rough that blood flowed freely. He carefully pressed fingers against Xingchen, where they had been joined, but found only the lubrication of spit and cum.

"Ah, sorry," Xingchen said, pushed him off and rolled free.

Understanding came slowly, and he settled back into a kneeling position, looked up.

Xingchen stood proud, a wounded warrior in the moonlight, blood glinting dark red, flowing down his cheeks, coating his neck, dripping down his chest. 

Xingchen's empty eyes spilled tears of blood. "My... I haven't quite healed yet."

He stood, and Xingchen turned from him, gave him a view of pale ass cheeks peeking from beneath midnight black hair. He sucked in a breath, wrapped an arm low around Xingchen, pressed close, cock hard against Xingchen's ass. "You didn't know you'd bleed."

"No. I... I wanted to feel you without..." Xingchen said, and lifted a hand to touch his hair. He leaned into the touch, and Xingchen whispered, "I'm sorry, I should've..."

He barely heard Xingchen's chatter, the scent of blood enticing. Luring him closer. He dipped his head to Xingchen's neck, licked a red trail away, expecting... he wasn't certain. Had only ever tasted his own blood, and a bit of Xingchen's, never intentionally.

Xingchen's blood tasted sweet, like honey sprinkled with salt, a faint hint of metal, and a taste unique to Xingchen. Beguiling. He hummed a soft sound of desire, and licked again.

Xingchen tilted his head, allowing him easier access, stroked his hair, and said, "You needn't--"

"Want," he said, and lapped again.

"But it's--"

He pulled away, just far enough to clearly, softly, say, "Your eyes bleed with extreme emotion."

"Yes."

Between licking kisses, he murmured, "Your blood now, like your cum, is flavored with passion."

"So, it's not--"

"You," he licked another trail... "taste," ...and another, "euphoric."

Xingchen smiled, turned, kissed him on the lips, tasted his own blood on his lips, deemed the flavor 'acceptable' and pressed him downward, onto the blanket.

A year later, a talented young cultivator became infatuated with A-Qing, with her brazen, outspoken nature. He trailed after them, fought alongside them, and charmed A-Qing.

Xingchen smiled when A-Qing announced that the young man had asked to marry her. "I suppose we are to be four now," he said.

Their small family was growing.

He walked beside Xingchen, content and deliriously happy. Toward each other, forgiveness had been uncomplicated.

Self-forgiveness was not. That type of forgiveness took awareness, an honest look at the past, to learn which steps had been well-taken, and which had not. To strive to do better, to learn the harsh lessons, and move forward.

Progress was made.

Understanding came.

As did Xue Yang.

This time, together, they triumphed.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by @seven_biscuitss' art [here](https://twitter.com/seven_biscuitss/status/1306781247058915328?s=21) on twitter.


End file.
